


Pushing Buttons

by thunderingskies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, Professional Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8734858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderingskies/pseuds/thunderingskies
Summary: Everything is hazy, wobbly - like a train that’s slightly off the tracks, teetering on the brink of disaster, struggling desperately to keep pushing forward. His limbs feel heavy, like something is pulling him down, keeping him low to the ground, stopping him from pulling himself up and reaching his full potential.
He tries to force the thoughts through his head, force his limbs to move and obey, but they refuse. He grits his teeth, frustrated.
It’s too bright to see, yet Bokuto knows that he shouldn’t close his eyes. Can’t close them. Something in the back of his mind is reminding him, pushing him - don’t give in, don’t give up.





	

_ “Please get up.” _

Everything is hazy, wobbly - like a train that’s slightly off the tracks, teetering on the brink of disaster, struggling desperately to keep pushing forward. His limbs feel heavy, like something is pulling him down, keeping him low to the ground, stopping him from pulling himself up and reaching his full potential.

He tries to force the thoughts through his head, force his limbs to move and obey, but they refuse. He grits his teeth, frustrated.

It’s too bright to see, yet Bokuto knows that he shouldn’t close his eyes.  _ Can’t _ close them. Something in the back of his mind is reminding him, pushing him -  _ don’t give in, don’t give up _ -

Or maybe it’s a voice, that he hears again, “ _ Please get up!” _

It sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

His tongue is heavy, and his mouth is dry. He swallows only to bite back the metallic taste of blood, which only gets worse as he swirls around his tongue. He chooses instead to spit it out, flinching at the pain that shoots through his jaw as more warm blood seeps into his mouth.

Every last muscle burns with the strain of overuse, pushed to the absolute brink of his limits, but somehow he _pushes through_. He moves, limbs shaking as he struggles up and off the ground. His arms nearly give out beneath him. It’s slow, it’s painful, somewhere in the distance he hears the crowd chanting out the countdown - _four, three, two -_ _no, no, this can’t be it-_

He stumbles, but catches himself just in time, staggering up, first to his knees, then to his feet. He’s unsteady, but standing, feet trembling beneath him. He forces himself to bear the pain, to endure it, just for a little bit longer.

It’s as if his senses are turned back on and he’s flooded with sights, smells, sounds, the bright lights turning fuzzy as he’s able to focus again, able to see what’s in front of him.

The crowd chants far away, some cheering, others booing. Bokuto heaves in a deep, disheveled breath; his lungs burn, begging for more. He narrows his eyes, focusing on the fighter in front of him, who lifts up his fists, spitting out blood. Everything starts to become clear again.

So he looks past him, seeing his best friend, his partner, Kuroo, on the sidelines, fingers white from gripping the edge of the ring so hard. He’s watching, eyes serious, expression relieved at seeing Bokuto up and on his feet again.

Of course it’s Kuroo; who else?

He hates coming, he hates seeing Bokuto fight, yet he never misses a game. If Bokuto ever needed a reason to do what he does, that’d be it right then and there; the sight of his face gives him strength, steels his resolve, helps him to keep on going.

He heaves another breath, taking a step back and straightening out his stance. It feels like hours have passed, but he knows it’s been seconds, as his opponent circles around him, not giving him a moment’s rest.

Not that he needs it.

He throws Kuroo a smirk he knows he’ll get hell for later and pushes forward, lunging at his opponent, not giving an inch; he gives everything he’s got, every inch of his soul, because he’s Bokuto fucking Koutarou and that’s how he wins.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more of this AU!


End file.
